


A Late Breakfast

by herecomesaspecialboy



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Awkward Boners, Claude is genius with a bomb pussy, Cuddling, Cute, Embarrassment, Face-Fucking, First Time, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Rimming, Trans Character, Trans Claude von Riegan, good boy Dimitri, guys being dudes, not a virgin Claude, virgin Dimitri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:08:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22044604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herecomesaspecialboy/pseuds/herecomesaspecialboy
Summary: Claude overhears Dimitri in the infirmary with an embarrassing problem and decides to help the poor guy out.AKA Dimitri can't stop popping boners and breaking shit because he has a crush on his oblivious professor, so Claude, being a great dude, lends him a hand. AKA 6000 words of Dimitri being a very good boy and Claude being like "damn this rules"
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 12
Kudos: 166





	A Late Breakfast

**Author's Note:**

> not a ton of content warnings since this is pretty cute stuff, but I'll put them in the endnotes for anyone who wants them. thanks to Pleasant_Boy for encouraging me to write the Claude/Dimitri fic of my dreams.

The tiny letters on the pages in front of him were blurring together. Claude had been awake too long, looking for answers in the library for even longer. And the Golden Deer had reserved the training grounds with Catherine and Shamir after lunch. Claude made a quick mental note of where he was leaving off, put certain books carefully away, and left others out to look used, choosing something mostly innocuous but still useful to take with him. It wasn’t the most devious, but it would keep the (honestly pretty average) minds of Garreg Mach off his trail. He didn’t think anyone was onto him anyways, but it never hurt to be careful.

Claude stretched as he stood up. A nap would be great. He envied the stray cats (not to mention Hilda) for getting to laze around the monastery all day, every day. Stretching his legs felt good too. He felt his spine settling back into something like a healthy position. It was too hard to remember things like posture and sleep when he had so much work to get done. He was unsurprised to find himself alone in the hallway, with most other students either enjoying the sunny day or down in the dining hall for the end of breakfast.

But then Claude heard a voice, painfully earnest, and very familiar. “Professor Manuela, I apologize with the utmost sincerity, and do beseech you for your discretion.”

What could his princeliness Dimitri be begging for Manuela’s secrecy about? Claude crept into Hanneman’s empty office to eavesdrop better.

“Not to worry, your Highness. I’ve seen quite a bit in my time.” Even Manuela sounded more sincere than usual. Not worried-concerned as much as… compassionate, maybe. The lilt of flirtation Claude usually heard in her voice was completely missing. “Perhaps I should speak to your professor—”

“No!” Dimitri barked. “I mean… rather…” He cleared his throat. “Isn’t there some way I can just… prevent this? Some herb I can take? A breathing technique? Meditation?” Claude had heard Faerghus’ heir sound embarrassed before, but this was on a whole other level. What was going on!? Clearly some kind of health problem, maybe to do with his heart? Insomnia, perhaps? But how had Claude missed it? He kept _very_ close tabs on his fellow house leaders.

Manuela sighed. “I’m afraid not. There are things that can help, but at your age, I’m sorry to say that this just comes with the territory. Is it a problem all the time?”

“No,” Dimitri replied, softer this time. “Just with Professor Byleth.”

“Oh, you poor dear. I don’t know how that man can be so oblivious as to keep sending you to me with these ‘fevers’.” The sound of shuffling, a cabinet opening and closing. “Try one teaspoon in boiling water. It works best if it’s immediately after… well… _release_. It takes about an hour to set in. That should at least help somewhat.”

“Thank you, Professor.” Claude could almost hear Dimitri’s swift, deep bow. 

“I’m happy to help.” She paused. “I know what they say about me, and… well… it _is_ mostly true, but… I really am a romantic at heart. Please tell me if you change your mind and would like me to say something. You’re a lovely young man and you deserve—“

“Thank you,” Dimitri cut her off very brusquely. “I must be going.” The door opened, making Dimitri’s voice even louder. “I will never forget your kindness in this. I promise.” His footsteps were swift and determined, more and more distant, until they were finally gone.

Claude considered the conversation as he walked back to his dorm room. It wasn’t too difficult to piece the story together. Dimitri did not, in fact, have a chronic health problem. It sounded like he was every bit the robust, potent prince he seemed to be. And then some. Claude was definitely used to seeing Dimitri around the monastery red in the face and sweating, but always attributed it to rigorous training or too much time in the sauna. 

The thought of Dimitri delirious and hard, embarrassed and pink-cheeked as he tried to maintain composure in class was honestly… kind of delicious, really. He was already very cute stumbling over his words and embarrassed in a normal way. Maybe Claude could sit in on a lecture or something, attend a training session.

Claude did feel genuinely sorry for the guy when he thought about the object of his affection, though. Professor Byleth was as cold and oblivious as they came. Perfectly nice, just more or less flirt-proof. Dimitri’d have a better time getting Raphael to pick up on subtext than Teach.

Teach wouldn’t really do for Dimitri anyways, Claude thought as he mounted the stairs to the second floor of the dorms. Dimitri needed someone daring enough to push him over the edge, but also strong enough to catch him when he fell. Dimitri would need someone funny enough to get him to loosen up and not take everything so seriously, but also kind enough to take seriously the things that needed to be. They’d have to be gorgeous too, obviously, and smart enough to see through his stoic macho bullshit. Teach wasn’t any of those things. Maybe strong and gorgeous, but a stone faced killer fisherman wouldn’t suit his princeliness at all.

Claude yawned, impatient to get back to his great big bed and fall asleep. Maybe he’d skip training that day. It wouldn’t be fair for Hilda to be the only one who got away with that. Why was the hallway so long? Why were there so many steps?

Finally, he made it. Claude didn’t even bother to knock the books off of his bed. He curled up next to them and closed his eyes, falling asleep instantly.

He wasn’t asleep long before he was woken up by a loud crash followed by a deep, anguished curse. Dimitri had also returned to the dorms, by the sound of it. And Claude had never heard him take Seiros’ name in vain like that. He should have gone back to sleep, but curiosity got the better of both tact and sleepiness.

That’s how Claude ended up opening Dimitri’s door, asking “Is everything alright?” in his most innocent voice.

Dimitri was a vision. Red in the face, hair a mess, a tangle of underwear, feathers and splinters. Poor guy. Claude gave Manuela credit for her restraint--clearly she was far less lecherous than her reputation suggested. If Claude had been in her position, there’s no way in hell he would have been so nice.

“Did you break your bed?” Claude asked. Maybe rude, maybe stating the obvious, but hey, it was impressive. The furniture at Garreg Mach was old and sturdily built.

“Yes,” Dimitri mumbled, getting even redder, shifting so his lower body was facing away from Claude.

Did Dimitri break his bed _masturbating_?

“I… I have trouble controlling my strength sometimes.” _No shit_ , Claude thought, eyeing the destruction. 

“I was just lying down for a nap,” Claude said.

Dimitri, who had been carefully avoiding eye contact, suddenly looked up at Claude, a storm of emotion and sincerity. “I’m so sorry for the noise, and for disturbing you. Please don’t worry about me.” Typical of Dimitri to push past his discomfort to give a proper apology. “This… happens sometimes. I will speak to Cyril about finding a replacement.” Dimitri furrowed his brow. 

“I have the largest bed in the monastery, if you’d like to continue your nap with me.” The words tumbled out of Claude’s mouth without his conscious permission. What was Dimitri going to say? That he was skipping morning classes to jack off violently and destructively? That he could just sleep in any of the many empty beds in the entire dormitory? He looked so warm and surprisingly soft. It was worth a shot. Teach was an idiot.

“I couldn’t possibly,” Dimitri shook his head. “I need to clean all of this up, and you should rest.”

Claude offered his hand and the most charming smile in his massive library of charming smiles. “It’ll be awfully hard to sleep with all the commotion of bringing up a new bed. Felix’s room doesn’t offer very much of a sound barrier, you know.”

Dimitri was well and truly trapped, and stammered impotent protests, but took Claude’s hand all the same. 

**

Dimitri’s morning had been less than ideal. First there was the humiliation of Professor Byleth correcting his fighting stance. He had struggled to maintain composure, feeling his face grow red, his breathing quicken. He had to clench the lance in his increasingly sweaty hands to maintain his grip. His classmates eyed him with pity when it snapped. And then their Professor just put his hand on Dimitri’s forehead.

The torture hadn’t ended with being sent to the infirmary, because Professor Byleth insisted on walking him there himself. His hand still present: firm but gentle on Dimitri’s back. Shame had boiled hot in Dimitri’s veins as he focused on putting one foot in front of the other when all he wanted was to beg for those hands to just keep touching him. What would Professor Byleth’s hands, so small but so powerful, calloused and warm, feel like on his bare skin?

It was a mercy that Professor Manuela had insisted on privacy and sent Professor Byleth back to class. The cause was as clear to her as it had been to everyone else. But by that point, Dimitri had simply been driven too far, and couldn’t calm himself. As restrained as she was, as distant and uncharacteristically non-flirtatious, Dimitri truly wished she had opted for a less revealing outfit that day. While it was a welcome reprieve from the emotions Professor Byleth inspired in him, it was still too stimulating to his poisoned mind.

Finally he had a moment to relieve himself, alone in his room, the only person on the entire floor. He hadn’t even bothered with the herbs he’d been given. Opportunities such as those were rare for Dimitri, who usually had to find his privacy quickly and in silence, tucked away in a corner, a spare weapons closet, an empty room. Often two or three times a day, sometimes more. His own bed late in the morning was a luxury he probably didn’t deserve, but he took it all the same, thrusting against his pillow, fist in his mouth, imagining small smiles of approval and clever fingers.

He was so close that he ignored the first cracking sound of the bedframe. It wasn’t as though he had never heard a creak of complaint from his furniture before. But as he sped up, his thoughts blurring together as he chased release, the bed exploded underneath him.

Dimitri supposed he could have done worse than have Claude walk in, but not by much. Even slightly rumpled and concerned, Claude was a picture of the perfect house leader: handsome, charming, and completely in control of himself. 

Somehow that had led to Dimitri pretending to nap and trying to wish himself soft in Claude’s preposterously massive bed. At least he had gotten the chance to change into his Blue Lions sweats and remove the mattress feathers from his hair.

“Are you alright?” Claude asked, rolling over to face Dimitri. The bed was so large that they could both lie on it without touching.

Dimitri felt his face heat, and immediately looked away from the green eyes that sparkled in his direction. “I-” He didn’t know what to say.

“Don’t tell anyone this, but,” Claude blushed. “It happens to me too. I’ve never broken a bed, but I’ve sprained my wrist that way.”

Dimitri was confused, but his mind immediately supplied the image of Claude, warm and close like they were just then, touching himself with such purpose that it could lead to a sprained wrist. His cock throbbed. “Wha-”

“You were having a nightmare, right?” Claude offered. “I toss and turn like crazy when I have them.”

“Yes,” was all Dimitri could manage.

Claude looked at him thoughtfully, and Dimitri felt both dread and impatience to hear what was running through his mind. “I know you’re not the most touchy feely guy, but do you want a hug?”

**

Claude could almost hear Hilda in his head saying, “Oh leaderman, you’re taking this _way_ too far.” He pushed her to the side, as well as all the other little parts of himself that never stopped discussing and debating and considering what he should do next. Dimitri radiated heat and desperation and was wrapping his arms awkwardly around Claude’s waist, trying to hide the blush on his face by tucking his head down.

“You feel really tense,” Claude said softly, experimentally pressing on the obvious knots in Dimitri’s shoulders.

“I-” Dimitri was in no condition to be speaking. Probably for the best.

It couldn’t be this easy. It shouldn’t be this easy. “Just relax, okay,” Claude suggested, feeling a hot puff of breath on his neck in response.

It _was_ that easy. Claude was almost embarrassed for going with such a cliché, but the shudder of Dimitri’s body the second Claude put his hand on his neck reminded him that the classics are classic for a reason. “Try to get some rest.” He could feel Dimitri’s skin warming up through the blue cotton as he touched him, hear his labored breathing. Claude moved a hand to his hair and the soft moan Dimitri choked out in response hit Claude bright and hot through his whole body. Dimitri never relaxed exactly, but he hugged Claude tighter, which Claude took as an invitation to go under his shirt, petting up and down his back, digging his fingertips into the rock formation of Dimitri’s shoulder blades. Whew, this was _much_ better than the nap Claude sorely needed. 

It was getting a little difficult for Claude to ignore his own arousal, but he weighed his options and determined that lightly running a fingertip down Dimitri’s spine was more important than blowing the whole thing by suddenly grinding into him. He was rewarded with a high, breathy whine and a jump.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Claude said as guilelessly as he could, pulling his hand away. 

“No!” Dimitri looked up at him, eyes dark and mouth wet. “No, it- it felt good.”

“Are you sure?”

“Please don’t stop.” The words hit Claude in the gut and he felt his own face heating.

“Okay,” Claude agreed, returning his fingertips under Dimitri’s shirt, teasing them across the waistband of his shorts. Dimitri didn’t look away or hide his face this time. He just laid there, face an inch away, eyes going unfocused and gasping silently. “Take your shirt off, Dimitri,” Claude said evenly, and Dimitri complied, breaking the hug to sit up and strip his shirt off in one quick, fluid motion before returning.

Claude nudged him onto his back, propping himself up on an elbow and staring down at a shirtless Dimitri--pink and breathy and waiting to be touched, visibly hard in his shorts. Claude started at Dimitri’s shoulder, tracing down his collarbone, between his pecs, then across one, brushing across a nipple, up into an armpit, down the side of his ribs.

Claude had always prided himself on being a pretty smart guy—able to see a billion potentials that no one else could—it was kind of his whole thing. So it pained him to admit to himself that he had never imagined that Seteth’s competition for “Fódlan’s Most Uptight” would let himself be undone so quickly with so little coaxing. Watching Dimitri’s muscles jump under Claude’s touch, listening to his little gasps and groans, feeling the heat of Dimitri’s gaze on him, face so open, so surprisingly unashamed, made _Claude_ feel like the virginal one in the situation.

He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting—maybe a fraught, tense makeout, maybe an awkward handjob while Dimitri gritted his teeth and apologized repeatedly, but it sure wasn’t Dimitri splayed out in his bed, gorgeous and eager for Claude to touch his shoulder. Where had all that self-control gone? Claude found himself with his hand flat on Dimitri’s stomach, unable to look away from the half-lidded, debauched expression on his face. He wasn’t sure how long he stayed like that, catching his breath, trying to make sense of the situation, taking it all in and trying to come up with the best next course of action.

 _I want to fuck you_ , he thought. _I want to eat you out until you’re screaming my name_ , _I want to marry you_ , _I want your cock in my mouth_ , _I want to build you a boat, I want to fuck your face_ , _I want to feel you cum on my fingers_ , _I want you to fuck me_ , _I want to make you cum_. He thought a hundred thoughts that all went unsaid, because the words that fell out of his mouth, even as he cringed at the high, breathy sound of his own voice, were— 

**

“I want to kiss you.”

Dimitri could not pull Claude onto himself fast enough. All the built up energy, all the tension, everything he had been holding in exploded at once. Dimitri didn’t know exactly how the mechanics of this worked, but he could not bring himself to care. It all felt so good. He would take any of it. All of it. Whatever Claude was offering, he would take. Claude still had all his clothes on, which was fine because Claude was straddling his waist, leaning down and cupping Dimitri’s face. That would have been enough. Dimitri could have stayed that way forever, but Claude leaned forward, eyes bright with surprise, and pressed their lips together.

It was not Dimitri’s first kiss, but it was probably his first good kiss. His ability to discern what exactly was happening quickly disappeared, rendering his cognition a blur of sensation. Maybe a poet could describe it with metaphor and simile, with descriptions of sunrises and lightning storms, blooming flowers and crashing waves. But Dimitri was no poet, and so the language center of his brain was a flurry of: hot, wet, Claude, soft, good, yes, sharp, Claude, tongue, skin, hand, please, yes, more, Claude, there, oh, teeth, Claude, hair, weight, skin, Claude, lips, Claude, pressure, please, please, Claude, Claude, _fuck_.

Then Claude pulled away, asking, “What do you want? I’ll give it to you.” Looking down at Dimitri, visibly trying to catch his breath, Claude looked as wild as Dimitri had ever seen him. He put a tentative hand on Dimitri’s chest. “Whatever you want, you just have to tell me.”

“I don’t know,” Dimitri admitted. “Anything. I like this. I like all of it.”

Claude raised his eyebrows, cupping Dimitri’s pecs in a way that made Dimitri feel sexy and embarrassed all at the same time. “You like _this_?” 

Just as Dimitri opened his mouth to say yes, Claude ran his thumbs over his nipples, turning Dimitri’s “yes” into a whimper. 

Then Claude was everywhere at once—sucking Dimitri’s nipples, biting down on Dimitri’s shoulder, nosing at Dimitri’s armpits, licking into Dimitri’s ear with a harsh whisper of, “Whatever you want, really. Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are?” Dimitri couldn’t hope to keep up, so he just did what he could, arching into Claude’s touch, hooking his feet around Claude’s legs, finding Claude’s mouth again and sucking on his tongue.

Claude tugged at the waistband of Dimitri’s shorts, and Dimitri was more than happy to comply, lifting his hips so Claude could strip him completely. Claude kissed him again before following his hands with his mouth down Dimitri’s thighs. Dimitri eagerly let himself be moved and turned and twisted and spread apart. The imbalance of Claude still being dressed did not strike Dimitri as odd. Instead, Dimitri luxuriated in the heat of Claude’s gaze.

Dimitri was used to being looked at. Looked at as the future of Faerghus, a symbol, something to believe in. Looked at as the unfortunate young prince, someone to pity. Looked at as a wielder of huge amounts of power, someone to fear or envy. Looked at as something useful, something to covet and obtain. Some look at him with hatred, others with regret. A select few look at Dimitri with the easy comfort of friendship. No one had ever looked at Dimitri the way Claude looked at him, like something beautiful, vital, special. Dimitri felt Claude’s eyes not on who his father had been or who Dimitri would someday be. Dimitri looked up into blown out pupils and a soft hungry grin and felt himself seen. Not his title, not his Crest, not his money or lands. In that moment, for the first time in his life, Dimitri was just a man. And that was enough to make him worth desiring. To be desired as just a man was something that had never even occurred to Dimitri to want, and now that he had it, he had no idea what to do with it other than bury his face into a pillow, moaning and shuddering at the feeling of hot breath on the inside of his thigh.

**

Dimitri was wasted on being a future king, Claude thought, letting a dusting of golden curls tickle his face. Dimitri deserved a life of leisure, of complete dedication to fucking Claude. He followed the curve of one leg with the tip of his nose, pressing a kiss to the underside where it met Dimitri’s ass.

Dimitri let Claude part his legs so easily, sighing into Claude’s pillows like all he’d been waiting for his whole life was someone to be smart enough to swipe a spit slicked finger over his asshole and call him beautiful. Claude had to have some kind of lube handy, right? He remembered, crestfallen, using the last bit of grease on a stupid sword, and adjusted his strategy.

 _Give me time_ , he said, mentally, to Dimitri’s ass. Instead he ran his fingers through the thick blonde curls Dimitri’s cock emerged from, kissing along a hipbone. “Gorgeous,” Claude said out loud when he meant to just think it, mouth opening reflexively from being so close to Dimitri’s honestly intimidatingly big dick. But the instant he put his hand on it, Dimitri went taut as a bowstring (Claude should know) and flailed one of his arms so it sent three different rare first editions flying across the room, crashing into the opposite wall.

“I am sorry!” Dimitri yelled, sitting up, horrified. “I am so sorry,” he repeated. “I-I don’t have the best self control.”

“Oh, right,” Claude remembered. “You broke your bed.”

This time when Dimitri blushed, it was sad, not hot. “I can leave if that is what you want,” he mumbled, hanging his head.

“What?” Claude scoffed. “No, that’s stupid. Hey…” Claude tilted Dimitri’s chin up and kissed him gently. “Hey, remember who you’re dealing with here.” Claude let himself smile a real smile, kissing Dimitri again. “Don’t leave,” he added softly. “I’m pretty good at solving problems.”

Dimitri nodded, putting his hands in his lap very formally and looking at Claude with the gravest, most serious furrowed brow.

“First, let’s get off the bed,” Claude suggested. “I really like this bed and don’t want to break it.” They stood up, Claude putting a hand on Dimitri’s shoulder reassuringly. “The floor isn’t the most glamorous, but it’s very sturdy,” he said, kneeling down, guiding Dimitri with him. Claude looked around the room and found a bolt of cloth. Not the most important Almyran sash, not the nicest one he had, but plenty strong enough to withstand whatever Dimitri could do to it.

It’d been a while since Claude had last taken a prisoner, but he managed a decent job of tying Dimitri’s hands and feet together behind his back. It was, again, way too easy to convince him to let him do it. Like worrying for the future of Faerghus easy, but geopolitics were really far from the most pressing issues at hand. 

Dimitri was such a stunning vision Claude had to stand up and admire his work. “Thirsty?” He asked, pouring a cup of water for himself and drinking it just to have a moment to enjoy the way Dimitri looked up at him. The way Dimitri tugged on his bonds experimentally. The way Dimitri’s cock bobbed in the air, the way his muscles tensed.

Dimitri blushed even harder when Claude approached with the water cup, staring up into Claude’s eyes with heady intensity. He didn’t break eye contact when he drank either, and Claude felt bolstered by a trust he certainly hadn’t earned. 

Claude knelt back down with Dimitri, kissing him again, running his hands up and down his body, loving the way Dimitri bucked and twitched into his hands. Claude kissed down Dimitri’s jaw, wrapped his arms around him, rubbed up against him. Dimitri’s cockhead was peeking back out of his foreskin, all pink and shiny and cute. So Claude reached down and wrapped his hand around Dimitri, and this time when Dimitri reacted to his dick being held, it was a tense jump and nothing more. No destruction. 

“See, aren’t you glad you stayed?” Claude murmured into Dimitri’s ear, stroking him slow and steady.

“Uh huh,” Dimitri sighed, nodding, hips rolling in perfect rhythm with Claude’s ministrations. 

“You’re perfect like this,” Claude marveled, and just as he said it, the sunlight came through his window, illuminating Dimitri in an ethereal glow—all pink and light gold and twitching muscle. He looked like some kind of fertility spirit, a god of pleasure. It was absurd, something out of a tawdry novel, not real life. So Claude did what he’d probably want to do if he met a god anyways, kissing Dimitri deep and filthy, twisting his wrist as he worked Dimitri’s dick, coaxing a nice little whine out of his mouth. “You’re close, huh?” Dimitri just nodded, biting his lower lip to keep quiet, hips moving a little faster, a little more urgent. 

Claude did his huskiest, sexiest voice, brushing his nose against Dimitri’s cheek. “Come apart for me.” He slotted their mouths together again, giving Dimitri a safe place to make all the noise he needed, jerking him while he grimaced against Claude’s face, shooting hot and thick up onto his own chest.

Dimitri looked up at Claude from under heavy eyelids, mouth pink and wet and open. Some cum dangled from his chin, which Claude wiped up and fed to him with his finger, groaning at the feeling of Dimitri’s tongue on his fingertip. He untied Dimitri and wiped him up with a handkerchief. Dimitri didn’t stand back up though. Instead, he nuzzled Claude, nosing at the fly of his pants.

“I-I want to use my mouth on you. I want to make you feel good.” Dimitri rubbed up and down Claude’s thighs. “Let me?” Dimitri asked with a bashful sincerity so fucking sweet Claude wondered if Dimitri couldn’t just talk him off. Claude thought about going back onto the bed, but the sight of Dimitri, naked, kneeling at his feet gave him pause. He put a hand on Dimitri’s head and could feel the resulting moan just as well as he could hear it.

“Okay,” Claude agreed, running his fingers through Dimitri’s hair a few more times before taking Dimitri’s hands and guiding them to his fly. Dimitri almost definitely already knew how pants worked, but there was something really hot about pretending he needed to be taught that too. Dimitri kissed him soft and sweet over his thighs and mound. “Yeah,” Claude exhaled, encouraging, putting a hand back on Dimitri’s head. “That’s good.” 

The way Dimitri looked up with big hopeful eyes when he started lapping at Claude’s clit was more obscene than anything Claude had ever found in a hidden library corner or Deridriu brothel. Delicate little kitten licks, deliberate and eager. Claude gripped Dimitri’s hair tighter and pushed into his mouth, Dimitri’s resulting moan reverberating through Claude’s pussy. Claude bucked his hips, riding the sensation, and Dimitri, much smarter than Claude had ever given him credit for, wrapped his lips around Claude’s clit, put his hands on Claude’s hips, and encouraged him to keep fucking into his mouth.

“You’re a natural,” Claude laughed, trying to sound as composed as he could while adjusting the crown prince of Faerghus’ head so he could sink his clit deeper into his astute, wet mouth. 

Dimitri hummed twice in quick succession in a way that sounded suspiciously like a “thank you,” closing his eyes and then finding a rhythm.

“That feels so good,” Claude groaned, letting Dimitri suck him at his own pace for a bit before putting his foot up on a chair, gasping out “lick,” and pushing Dimitri’s face down into his wet folds. At first it seemed like Dimitri was licking around kind of haphazard, but Claude quickly put two and two together and realized that Dimitri was just chasing whatever pockets of Claude’s moisture he could find, lapping it up, sucking it down, and trying to coax more out with a satisfied hum like it was some kind of treat. Face burning, Claude forced himself to ask, “You like how I taste?”

Asking was worth it, because Dimitri looked up at him and nodded with all the earnestness he might have answering a question unrelated to pussy, bumping his nose against Claude’s clit as he did.

“You… you are so cute,” Claude couldn’t help but say, carding his fingers through Dimitri’s hair. “Gimme your hand.” Claude brought Dimitri’s hand to his mouth, making as much of a show of sucking on his index finger as he could before guiding it back down, where Dimitri snatched it away.

“I can’t do delicate work with my hands,” he said, frowning deeply. “I-I don’t want to hurt you. I’m sorry.”

Claude knelt down so they were face to face and kissed Dimitri, sucking the tangy brightness of his own pussy off his lips. “I won’t let you hurt me, I promise. Trust me?” Dimitri nodded, but was still frowning. “Lie down,” Claude instructed, and Dimitri complied, lying on his back on the stone floor. Claude took Dimitri’s hand and kissed it, smiling at him reassuringly, then uncurling two fingers and positioning them under himself. 

**

“Don’t move, okay?” Claude said with a wink, and began to fuck himself on Dimitri’s fingers, holding him by the wrist. Dimitri followed orders and didn’t move his arm, just watched his fingers disappearing into Claude, and bit his lip to suppress a moan. Concentrating on sucking Claude had been one thing, but lying there and just being used was more than Dimitri could possibly be expected to take without getting hard again. Embarrassed at his own neediness, he pressed on his erection with his free hand, but just then, Claude squeezed around Dimitri’s fingers.

“Ohh,” Dimitri moaned, wrapping a hand around himself without thinking. Claude’s eyes shot open at the sound.

“Are you hard again already?” Claude didn’t sound upset, but Dimitri still felt embarrassed.

“Yes, I-I’m sorry, I-”

Claude’s pussy pulsed around Dimitri’s fingers, and his face looked pretty happy, so maybe… “Do you want..?” Claude kept fucking himself on Dimitri’s fingers, but used his other hand to wrap around the one Dimitri was using.

Dimitri took Claude’s hand and raised it to his lips, kissing it in a way he hoped was romantic. “I am yours to use however you wish.”

Claude’s expression didn’t change, but Dimitri watched his clit twitch, felt his pussy throb, releasing even more moisture, soaking Dimitri’s entire hand. As much as he wanted to move them, to hold Claude down and fuck him with the skill and delicacy he deserved, Dimitri removed his fingers. Face hot, Dimitri held eye contact as he carefully licked the back of his hand clean, watching Claude’s eyes widen and face get redder and redder. Dimitri did not know why he was moving so slowly, the way he did in the woods if he didn’t want to spook a wild animal, but he maintained both eye contact and silence as he slowly wrapped that Claude-covered hand around his cock. 

That Dimitri could render Claude speechless was an incredible realization, and Dimitri flexed his muscles a little, preening under Claude’s gaze as he stroked himself. “What’s wrong, Claude? I thought you always knew the best tactical move to make,” he teased, unable to hide either the warmth or the nervousness in his voice.

Dimitri was fast, sure, but he had nothing on Claude, who straddled Dimitri’s face in what felt like a split second, holding him by his hair and looking down into his eyes. “I can’t believe what a bad influence I’ve been on you,” Claude quipped, lowering himself into Dimitri’s mouth.

Claude stopped Dimitri from bobbing his head up and down as he had before. “Use you however I wish, huh?” Claude held Dimitri’s head still, sliding out and then back in. Dimitri whimpered without meaning to, not needing to see Claude’s satisfied smirk to know it was there. “You know, your princeliness,” Dimitri’s cock throbbed at the nickname, “any good tactician is aware that important decisions merit careful thought.” Claude’s hand grasped his hair so tight it hurt a little, but it also felt good. It made Claude feel even more present, even more in control. Dimitri sucked dutifully, flicking his tongue around Claude and feeling Claude react.

Claude flooded Dimitri’s senses: Claude’s weight on him, Claude’s legs bracketing his vision, Claude’s breathing, Claude’s voice, Claude’s hands on his head, the thick smell of Claude coating the dark hair pressing down into his nose. The feeling of Claude twitching in his mouth was like nothing Dimitri could have ever imagined. Dimitri stroked himself through it all, but it was slow and lazy, with no urgency, just enough to keep what remained of Claude on his hand wet and warm. He had never felt so relaxed to touch himself before.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Claude choked out, high and tight in his throat, hips stuttering, leaning forward so Dimitri could see up his tunic, sinking as deep as he could into Dimitri’s mouth. Dimitri sucked and licked him through his climax, amazed at how powerfully Claude’s clit twitched and pulsed, watching the muscles in his stomach tense and relax, wanting more than anything to reach a hand up and feel them dance under his touch, to see if the dark curls that led up to and disappeared under Claude’s tight undershirt were as soft as they looked. 

Claude pulled out of Dimitri’s mouth with a wince, panting for breath, and instead of rolling over, flopped backwards onto Dimitri’s chest, unfolding his legs with a groan and giving Dimitri a perfect view of his cunt, swollen purple and pink, dripping wet, still twitchy and beautiful. Dimitri should have asked permission before sitting up and taking Claude’s hips with him, before burying his face back into all that heat, before licking Claude clean as gently as he could. But Claude didn’t protest, just twisted around and sighed around the head of Dimitri’s cock, lapping at it lazily. 

**

 _This is the best_ , Claude thought to himself, upside down and mouthing at Dimitri, who had taken to pussy like a fish to water. Being lifted into the air was alarming for a moment, but Dimitri’s hands were strong and gentle under him, and he was back on the bed before he could really think to panic. Dimitri knelt on the floor, hands under Claude’s hips and Claude’s legs on his shoulders, still licking and kissing him, sucking his swollen lips into his mouth with another one of those deep groans that vibrated Claude down to his bones. “Careful,” Claude gasped. “I’m sensitive.” 

“I’m sorry.” Dimitri kissed the insides of Claude’s thighs, his voice deep and thick. The kisses seemed to grow more frenzied, turning into long nuzzles, hot breath on Claude’s wet skin. And then Claude’s legs were in the air and Dimitri’s nose was back in Claude’s cunt. “It’s a good thing I’m flexible,” Claude tried to joke, but it came out as a desperate whine, letting Dimitri fold him in half, hungry lips going lower, those hands he claimed were no good for delicate work spreading Claude’s ass with shocking tenderness.

But Dimitri’s mouth attacked Claude’s asshole with none of the care he had used up until that point. The way he moaned and licked and prodded and kissed was all animal, no prince. He slid his tongue inside Claude like he’d been eating ass his whole life, slurping on his rim, the hard bone of his nose still brushing up against Claude’s oversensitive pussy lips. “Dimitri,” he moaned, shoving a hand between his legs to pull on the skin above his clit, still way too sensitive to touch directly. “Dimitri, please touch yourself too,” Claude begged, rubbing himself as gently as he could. 

The way Dimitri ate him made Claude felt like war rations, like pig slop, like the last meal of a condemned man, frissons of pleasure shuddering through his body, deep in his core and to the edges of his fingertips. He wasn’t sure what was happening where, how Dimitri’s mouth could suddenly do so much at once, make him feel so much. It hurt when Claude came again so quickly, legs twitching, hole squeezing Dimitri’s tongue, warm and lit up and used. Dimitri came with a high keen, so different from the deep guttural sounds he’d started to make, biting into the meat of Claude’s ass and whimpering like an animal.

Claude couldn’t say how long he laid there, catching his breath, Dimitri resting his head on Claude’s knee. It was nice, that closeness. Claude needed a bath. Claude still needed to sleep. He let his eyes sink closed and just before sleep could take him, the cathedral bells rang, signaling the end of late morning classes and the beginning of lunch.

“Hey princeliness,” Claude yawned, forcing himself to sit back up. “You hungry?”

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Claude's seduction method might read as a little manipulative. it's really done with the best intentions (helping his dear bro Dimitri chill out) but could potentially bother someone. Dimitri gets embarrassed intermittently. they do some kink stuff without talking about it at all, which, you know, you shouldn't do in real life. these are pretend 2D boys in a world with dragons and stuff. so they get to tie each other up without discussing it.
> 
> not doing much FE3H anymore but you can still hang out with me online if u want: [@yilinghamburglr](https://twitter.com/yilinghamburglr)


End file.
